


Pants Down

by oceaxe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-12
Updated: 2006-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 07:17:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6228895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceaxe/pseuds/oceaxe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Working in research at the Ministry is not nearly as interesting as Hermione had hoped. She finds a hobby to distract herself from the boredom - if masturbating in the Archives can be called a hobby. Draco Malfoy, hired as a temporary research consultant, catches her with her pants down, and something about it is strangely familiar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pants Down

Hermione, like many women, found that the demands of the flesh became more ineluctable as she got older. It was something to do with hormones, she thought, and not having had children by her late twenties. She just wanted sex. All the time. It was quite distracting, and Hermione Granger allowed nothing to distract her from her work. 

Hence she indulged in a lot of wanking. It wasn't that she didn't have opportunities for sex, it was just that she had better things to do than go trolling for a man. Besides, if she were honest with herself, men had turned out to be a lot less sensual than she had hoped - disappointing, really.

No one took the time for seduction anymore. When, on occasion, Hermione encountered someone who did make an effort, he usually thought buying her a book was sufficient aphrodisiac. (Actually, had they known how frequently she masturbated in the Ministry's archives, they might have felt justified in such an assumption.)

Of course no one knew about her little peccadillo. She was far too cagey to let information get out that might risk her job- especially information about a mere sexual quirk. Consequently, she was always scrupulous in her precautions when she had to a have quick one off in the archives. Well, almost always. 

And so it came to pass one day that Ms. Granger stood in the back of the archives with her panties around her ankles, one hand down the waistband of her skirt, toying with her clit, and the other up underneath, fingers teasing her slick folds. She was just getting to the good part- her breath was coming faster, hips softly gyrating, head thrown back- when some sixth sense (or possibly just her hearing) told her that someone had entered the archives.

"It's in here, is it? No, no need to show me. I've been in archives before, I'm sure I can handle it."

She knew that voice. Damn damn damn! She _knew_ that voice, like thick milky coffee- slightly acid but rich and smooth. Malfoy. He'd proven to be quite the academic after acing his NEWTS in eighth year. After the war he had worked awhile at the Ministry of France, where he had been responsible for some breakthroughs that had made Hermione grit her teeth with professional jealousy. She could have made those discoveries if only she'd had access to the books he had!

Predictably, he'd grown bored of working for only one client and taken to the odd spot of freelancing. Rumour had it that most of his time was spent in tropical climes, managing his investments with a cosmopolitan in one hand and a half-naked girl in the other. But occasionally he could be lured out playboy-land to do a special project on contract. Which was why he was here for a few weeks, give or take. _Bugger!_

While Hermione mused on Malfoy's career, she forgot that she was literally about to be caught with her pants down. Footsteps rapidly approached the aisle she was in. There was still time to tug her skirt down over herself, pull her other hand out of the waistband and do a quick disillusionment spell- but damn and triple damn again! _You left your wand in the office. Fucking great, Hermione!_ She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them to find Draco Malfoy staring at her fixedly and with an odd expression on his face.

This could not be happening. 

"Granger. Should have known I'd find you here. Where else would you find the gold-standard of bookworms?"

"Malfoy. Should have known you'd be auctioning yourself to the highest bidder." 

Hermione was momentarily pleased with her snappy comeback until she shifted her weight and felt something- off. Suppressing a start of shock, she realized she had, in fact, been caught with her pants down. Her panties were still around her ankles.

 _Please don't look down. Please just look at me._ She stared him down, hoping he'd take the challenge and hold her gaze. _Oh god, this could be so bad. I could get sacked._

Malfoy laughed. "The Ministry? The highest bidder? You've been in government too long, my dear." His eyes flicked downwards and lingered for a second before trailing up her body. A slow smirk spread across his face.

"Granger, are you aware..." he drawled. His smirk seemed to fighting to turn into a full-blown grin. "Are you aware," he continued, drawing out the torture, "that your dainty underthings are around your, ahem, ankles? You might want to attend to that." The smirk deepened as he pretended to avert his eyes.

Hermione blushed furiously. It felt as though the rapid transfer of blood from her crotch to her face might make her faint, but she was a strong lady. She could roll with the punches. _Let's see... I'm supposedly so clever. What possible excuse could there be for this ridiculous situation beyond the obvious?_

"They're old. The, uh, waistband was loose. I should have used a tightening charm." She huffed and shifted around nervously. _Oh, terrific. A wardrobe malfunction. He'll never buy it._ "I hope you're enough of a gentleman not to mention this to anyone," she added with what she hoped was a sanctimonious glare but was probably a look of desperation.

"But of course. Mere professional courtesy." He looked sincere. "This doesn't mean, however, that the matter is closed." With one final smirk, he turned and walked out. She started to follow him, anxious to put things to rights, but nearly tripped over the silky material between her feet. She bent over to pull the damned things up, muttering "My sex drive is going to be the death of me." There was a soft sniggering at the other end of the archive and Hermione realized she hadn't heard the archive door close. 

* * *

That night, Hermione thought over the events of the day as she slid her hand into her panties. There was no denying Draco Malfoy had grown into an almost unbelievably attractive man. And there was no denying that the encounter in the archive, while dangerous in the extreme, was - at least, in retrospect- a very arousing little scenario. She ran a fingertip down the seam of her labia, then slid it inside to retrieve some of the gathering moistness, spreading it up to her clit. She sighed and then gasped, a remote part of her brain telling her that there was something familiar about the memory of that afternoon. Pleasure overrode the voice, though, and Hermione continued bringing herself off to images of Malfoy and what his clever fingers might accomplish in place of hers.

* * *

Malfoy's project was clearly of great importance to the Ministry. They'd called a huge meeting the day after his arrival to introduce him and inform everyone in the research department that they were at his disposal, should he have need of them. Muted grumbling could be heard, but a brief all-encompassing glare from the department head silenced it.

While it was obvious that Malfoy was not welcomed by anyone with whom he'd actually be working, he blithely disregarded this and introduced himself all around. Once diplomacy was disposed of, he approached Hermione with some intent. Her fantasy of the night before flickered in her mind as she watched him approach.

"Good morning, Ms. Granger," he said as he slid a note across the table to her. "I am most pleased that you'll be at my disposal. I have a feeling I'll have _need_ of you."

Hermione couldn't even stutter out a response to that blatant innuendo. She just stared at him like a mouse in wand-light. He brushed past her, leaving her breathing faster and clutching the note in her hand.

When she got back to her office, she opened the small note.

_I hope your panties are nice and snug- we wouldn't want a repeat of yesterday, would we?_

Her cheeks colored and her body responded, but she told it to settle down- the intent behind these words was far from clear. While he had clearly changed since school, and even since the war (although she had rarely seen him during those years), the kernel of his nature was still arrogant, callous, and fundamentally aristocratic in the worst sense. _Calm down, Hermione. He's probably just having a laugh at your expense._

She didn't actually believe that was the most likely explanation for the note, but the alternative was a little heady. More evidence was required before she'd let herself believe Draco Malfoy was chasing her skirt. _Your panties, more like,_ quipped her sardonic inner monologue, _or lack thereof._

*

Malfoy didn't approach her in the days after giving her the note, but he did continually watch her. She knew he caught the blush that spread over her cheeks every time she caught him looking- and it was worse every time he caught her surreptitiously looking at him. An electric shock jolted through her when their eyes met. Something about seemed remote yet familiar, but she couldn't place it. Had it been so long since she'd been openly desired? Or was that even what was going on?

After another day on the receiving end of Malfoy's amused and speculative glances, Hermione got another note, this time by interoffice memo. Her heart started racing when she recognized the handwriting on the front. Malfoy. Was he going to raise the stakes on her?

_I know what you were doing in the archives, Granger. I could smell you. Do you use a special perfume? It was overwhelming._

Hermione paled as she took in the message behind the words. Not only had he thought she smelled rank, but he'd had the extremely poor taste to point it out. After flirting with her. She was mortified - and hurt.

But had it really been flirting? _He's still the snide, snobbish little arsehole he used to be. Oh god, I'm such an idiot. He's probably having a good hearty laugh at Hard-up Hermione right now._ She felt incongruously like crying.

The sense of deja vu was back, though- worse than ever. Only, this ghost of a shade of a memory was not unpleasant. _I can smell you from here. God, you smell fantastic._ She could almost place the voice, but not quite. Someone, sometime, had told her the scent of her sex was arousing. She just couldn't remember who.

* * *

Hermione ignored Malfoy completely the following week. She saw him out of the corner of her eye, and it seemed he was watching her, but she would not give him the satisfaction of her attention. If he was watching, it was only to see that she was properly shamed and put in her place.

On the Monday following, Hermione was walking past the office he'd been given for the duration of his stay. She caught his eye and carefully maintained a neutral expression, hurrying on to the line of reference books in the corridor. 

As she searched for the book she needed, she felt something slipping underneath her skirt. She glanced down. Her panties had fallen around her ankles, under their own volition- or someone else's. Quickly, she scanned the area. Luckily no one else was in the vicinity to witness. She straightened up and turned around. Yes, there was Malfoy, dangling his wand in his hand and staring her down, an inscrutable expression on his face.

"Hilarious, Malfoy. You're a regular comedian. " Hermione mustered her fiercest glare and turned her back, vanishing the panties so that she would not have to suffer the indignity of pulling them up in front of him. She stalked off, vowing never to look at him or speak to him ever again. He'd gotten what he wanted- she was humiliated. Bully for him.

Had Hermione been able to see his face, she would have seen that he looked disappointed, as though he had not been expecting her reaction to his little prank to be so negative.

She retreated to the ladies room, where she gave in to the flood of confused and conflicting emotions welling up in her. Wiping her eyes, she tried to cheer herself with the knowledge that he would soon be gone. Why this failed to improve her mood, she had no idea.

An hour or so later, she was back in her office pretending to read the great stack of mail she'd gotten that morning. The arrival of an interoffice memo startled her out of her grim reverie, and she was even more startled when she saw who it was from. _This had better be an apology. Of all the unprofessional behavior- I should report him. But then he could report me. Oh fuck it!_ She opened the note.

_H. -_

_I sat there pondering your panty-free ass as you fled precipitously from my rather childish prank. Whatever did I do wrong? Is it possible that I have been misreading the signals? Thinking over the last note I sent, it dawned on me that you might very well have taken it to mean that I thought you smelled unpleasant and needed (god forbid) to cover it up with some "feminine" product._

_That was not one of my finer epistolary moments._

_What I meant to say is that you smell intoxicating._

_D._

Hermione thought she might faint. He was seducing her. In his own inimitable, vaguely nasty way, he was seducing her!

* * *

When she got home from work, she poured herself some wine and sat down to write him a coy response. It was a little too coy. She crumpled it up, and massaged her temples. "Coy" was easily misinterpreted as "reluctant." And he was clearly afraid that he'd scared her off. I've got to let him know I don't spook that easily. Before she could stop herself, she'd sent him a note that read simply:

_D.-_

_I'll let you have another sniff of my cunt if you like it so much._

_H._

Short, and to the point. Also, slightly coy but self-assured. An open invitation, but it didn't necessarily seem as though she were desperate. Hermione felt very worldly, sending naughty notes to a her former enemy and rival-by-proxy.

The owl, however, returned to her with the note still on its leg. "Couldn't find him, then?" _He must have an unplottable on the flat he's subletting. Makes sense._

She hadn't wanted to send the note via interoffice memo, for fear of it going astray or being intercepted. However, it appeared she had no choice. Which meant, of course, she had a whole night and morning to waffle on whether it was actually a good idea to be so forward.

Should she perhaps continue to play hard to get, draw out the game? He clearly liked to pursue... but who knew when his project would end? They'd wasted enough time already on silly misunderstandings. She was going to get her hands on that firm pureblood arse sooner rather than later.

Somehow she had no doubts that Malfoy's bedside manner left anything to be desired.

On Monday morning, with a shaking hand that put the lie to her supposed woman-of-the-world attitude, she sent off the memo. Minutes later she could hear him in the hallway, talking to a couple of the younger researchers. She turned so that she could see him when he opened it. The memo landed gracefully in his hand, and he flipped it open.

Hermione's breath caught in her throat. He looked so poised. _Let's see what happens to your poise when you see how dirty I can be._

She saw his eyes scan the brief message. They glittered briefly, but then his face went stony and impassive. He stuffed the note in his pocket and, instead of coming to Hermione's office like a part of her expected him to, he immediately strode off towards the department head's office.

Hermione's heart turned to lead, and the stirrings of lust in her groin abruptly ceased, making her feel exceedingly foolish and desperate. It was too crass, too sudden, she chided herself. _I can't believe how stupid I am. How could I have been so naive?_

She was fretting at home when he replied with an owl bearing a pair of silky panties and a note.

_Meet me in the archives at 7 pm tomorrow. Wear these._

* * *

Hermione pushed open the door of the archive at 6:45, not wanting to be pathetically early but not able to pace her office one second longer. Maybe she'd just disappear into the stacks and get herself warmed up.

But Malfoy was there already. 

"Hi there," she whispered, feeling very uncosmopolitan and inexperienced. 

"Hi, yourself. Are you wearing them?" His voice sounded husky and breathless.

She nodded. They stared at one another for moment, not quite knowing how to begin.

"I'm glad you could come."

The double entendre occurred to them both at the same time, and they smiled crookedly at each other.

"I was scared I'd been too forward- it didn't seem as thought you liked my note."

"Granger. That note got me so hard so fast it was all I could do not to have one off at the wrist in front of the interns. I barely had time to make it to the bathroom. Best wank of my entire life."

With no further ado, he reached out and pulled her to him, turning her around as he did so. Hermione found herself facing the stacks she usually leaned against, Malfoy's hands up her skirt, molesting her arse and pushing down her panties. He quickly dealt with her skirt and his trousers, and soon his fingers busied themselves learning her folds and crevices. It felt so incredible, it was like he was reading her mind- his hands were sure and familiar on her. She felt his prick rubbing up against the cleft of her arse, and when she was thoroughly wet he adjusted himself so that his cock angled down between her legs, sliding in her wetness.

"God," he panted on her neck, "that feels so good." He slid back and forth a few times, his breath heating her ear. "Oh my g- Granger, be a good girl and stand on your toes. Grip that shelf." Hermione lifted up and felt his cock seek entrance. It slid into her in a smooth, long thrust that drew low moans of satisfaction from them both. He fucked her like that for awhile, both of them working hard to suppress the loud cries that threatened to escape.

"Oh fuck, Granger, your pussy..." He put his hands on her hips and pushed her forward so that his cock disengaged from her. She turned around, confused.

"I want you on the ground, now. I'm going to taste you before I come."

Hermione, being no fool, complied with due haste. Before she could savor the impending scenario of having pureblood Draco Malfoy lapping at her Muggleborn cunt, he was there, running the tip of his tongue down her labia, thrusting inside, then sucking on her clit and teasing it with the tip of his tongue. She raised her head to look at him and he paused momentarily to meet her gaze and murmur, "You smell fantastic."

It was him. _That was the voice. But what the.... oh._ It all came back, the details muted but... _It was him._

His tongue increased the intensity of its ministrations and Hermione's face and chest flushed with her impending orgasm. She hoped Malfoy had cast an Imperturbable because she started moaning uncontrollably - he was so fucking good at this. Which of course he was. She could feel her juices slick around his mouth and she suddenly wanted to be on top of him. "Malfoy...ungh, god... fuck, stop for a second-"

Malfoy lifted his head, panting and wiping his mouth. "You didn't sound like you had complaints, Granger," he said breathlessly.

"No, just... let me..." she trailed off as she pushed him back by the shoulders until they had traded positions, him on his back and her on top, straddling him. She needed him back inside her but wanted to control the pace. His cock, rock hard, nudged at her soaking wet entrance and she bore down on it, engulfing it in her heat. He groaned and pushed up, hands clutching her hips convulsively.  
'

She rode him like a thoroughbred, fast and proud, until stars burst through her body and mind and her come flooded their joined bodies. 

 

* * *

"You know," he said conversationally, "I've fantasized about fucking you in a library since Hogwarts. I never thought I'd get to do it. Thought you were frigid, actually. My, how things have changed." 

"Not that much, " she said shiftily. 

He paused. "What do you mean?" 

"Well, I used to do this in the library at Hogwarts, too." 

"What, wank?" 

"Yes... and, um..." she trailed off. 

"And you fucked people there? Weasley?" He sounded angry, almost. Jealous. 

"No, not Ron."

"But someone." Her silence confirmed it. "With whom, then?"

"With you," she said in barely audible whisper. This probably wasn't going to go over well.

"I'm sorry," he laughed strangely, "I could have sworn you said with me." 

"I did." 

"Well, I wouldn't want to inflate your ego, but I think I would remember that." 

"Not if I...." she trailed off.

A look of shock overtook his face. "You obliviated me?" She nodded and waited in fear. It came to her that she didn't want to lose this, not before she found out what it even was.

After a moment, Malfoy chuckled softly. "No wonder those 'fantasies' were so intense. That obliviate must have been a rush job. What happened?"

"It was pretty much this same scenario, actually. Library. Wanking. Except my panties weren't down, you just caught me with my hands up my skirt."

"Good lord, that sounds hot. But obliviate?"

She gave him a look. "Come on, Malfoy- for all we knew, we were on opposite sides of a war. One of us had to obliviate the other, and I wasn't going to let you do it." 

"I guess I can understand that. But now I'm confused. If this has. .. all basically happened before, what made you play hard to get this time?" 

"I wasn't playing hard to get. I didn't remember it either. Well, not really. The memory of it bothered me, so I put it in a pensieve. After awhile, the echo of the memory faded. It was only when you said... what you said, that it really came back."

"But it must have been clear that I was after you. And forgive me, but it was clear to me that you were interested."

"Well, I couldn't tell if you were having a joke at my expense, if I was imagining things... I mean, well... you're a Slytherin-"

"You assumed I was just taking advantage of a situation that presented itself?" Malfoy paused. "Granger, when did this, shall we say, original encounter take place?"

"Beginning of eighth year."

"I'd had it bad for you since third. Since you decked me, actually." 

"Oh." Hermione felt her heart leap just a bit. "So you..."

"Yeah." 

They gazed at each other.

"I wish I could remember it." 

"We could go use the pensieve on the seventh floor. But I'd have to go get the memory, it's at home."

A light gleamed in his eyes. "Why don't we go do that? I want to know if the sex was as fantastic as it was just now."

"Draco, you weren't a bad lay then, but... well, some things only improve with age."

"You silver-tongued devil."

"Don't you mean Mudblood?"

Malfoy threw back his head and laughed. "Let's go find that memory."


End file.
